


Pass the Mustard

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental summoning, Alternate Universe, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demon Summoning, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Werewolf Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Derek is making a sandwich and accidentally summons a demon.Must be Monday.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VioletSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletSmith/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for my lovely Smaych, whose birthday somehow managed to sneak up on me AGAIN. One day I'll manage some really amazing birthday fic, but for now, have this silliness. ILU and I hope you had an amazing day. <3
> 
> Based on [this Tumblr post](http://kd-heart.tumblr.com/post/158110495582/sweetgums-teawitch-writing-prompt-s-while).
> 
> Really rushed and unbetaed. Concrit welcome.

Derek isn't a huge creature of habit, but there are a few things in life he likes _just so_. Always milk before cereal, always left sock on first, and always make that little squiggle of mustard on his sandwich. It's gotten fancier over the years, but the core pattern remains the same. A circle, two squiggly lines, three dots, four dashes. At some point he started sprinkling salt in all four corners of the bread too, and nowadays it's a whole ceremony. Not that he needs it for a sandwich to be okay, but... it just tastes that _tiny bit better_ when he's made it himself with all the steps.

 

One afternoon he's building a really good sandwich. He's already smiling to himself in anticipation, because _yes_. It's gonna be _so good_. Rye toast, mayo squeezed out in a cross, thinly sliced turkey, thick, juicy tomato wedges, four corners of salt, pinch of pepper in the middle, another turkey slice and then his habitual mustard squiggle before closing with the other bread slice. It's perfect, there isn't even any drizzle or spatters. The squiggle looks amazing, and Derek is just about to put the bread on top when he gets the thought that maybe it could actually be improved. There's actually plenty of room around the edge for another circle. Just a thin one. But he does love mustard, to the general disgust of his friends and family who have to be around him during lunch. So why not?

 

So he puts down the bread, and carefully makes another circle, and it's beautiful, his hand is steady, and maybe he should look into being an artist, because that shit looks mathematically perfect.

 

However, just as the circle closes, something truly unexpected happens. There's a puff of sulfur-smelling smoke right next to him, and he freezes in shock as it dissipates to reveal... a demon.

 

Derek doesn't know too much about demons, only that they're best kept away from. They're not evil as such, and they certainly don't live in Hell, though their appearance definitely gave the Catholic church some artistic inspiration. But they do make deals with people, and while they don't take souls unless it's literally lifesaving measures they're taking payment for, anyone faced with them should exercise caution.

 

Though, if Derek's being honest, this one looks... really quite tired.

 

”Dude,” the demon says, voice like rocks on a washboard. ”Did you seriously just summon me with _mustard_?”

 

Derek remains stock still, the incriminating mustard bottle starting to drip on the sandwich while he tries to figure out what he's supposed to do here. In the end he just shrugs helplessly, and the demon looks frankly exasperated.

 

”Christ on a bike, it's so very much Monday, fuck my life.”

 

He's every bit a demon. Deep crimson skin, spaded tail, pointy ears, small horns, yellow eyes, and... well, he's also naked, though the smoke does kinda linger at hip level, which Derek can't help but think is pretty neat. But most of all, the demon just looks exhausted and frustrated. Like anyone else would on a Monday morning. And while Derek doesn't know what demons do until they're summoned it can't be that awesome to be spontaneously pulled from whatever you're doing at any given time, especially for no reason.

 

So, after a moment of mutual confused staring, Derek puts down the mustard, delicately places the bread on top of the sandwich, and slides the plate along the counter until it's in front of the tired demon. Then Derek starts making another sandwich. He feels like the least he can do after the accidental summoning is feed the guy.

 

The demon stares from Derek to the sandwich for a long time, eyes narrowing and tail twitching. ”What are you trying to pull here?”

 

Derek shrugs again, dutifully making sure there's no accidental summoning with the next sandwich. ”It was an accident. And you look like you could use a break. Consider it an apology.”

 

”...seriously?”

 

The demon sounds like it's the strangest thing he's ever heard, and maybe it is. Derek has no idea what kind of life experiences demons usually have, but Derek was raised to be kind, to everyone, no matter who or what they are. And, in that vein, he pops open an extra root beer and slides that over, too. Then he takes his own sandwich and drink to the couch, leaving the demon to decide what to do next.

 

There's a lengthy pause, but then there's the small noise of a can of root beer dragging across a surface, and then the demon is gone again in a puff of sulfur. So is the sandwich and drink. Derek smiles to himself as he turns on the TV. He hopes that wherever the demon is his Monday got a little better.

 

That same afternoon, Derek gets a call from the place he'd had a job interview at the week before, offering him the position. Which is weird, because the interview had gone somewhat poorly, and Derek had lacked a few skills to be a perfect applicant. He'd been prepared to learn, but the interviewer hadn't seemed interested in seeing more of him, already opening the next file before he'd even closed the door behind him.

 

But now he's got the job.

 

Huh.

 

The following day he makes two sandwiches and gets out two bottles of water, and when the mustard circle connects he doesn't even bother with conversation. Just slides the sandwich and water over, and goes to the couch.

 

”Thanks,” the demon says from the kitchen, his rumbly voice sounding weirdly fond. ”And you're welcome.” Then there's sulfur smoke again, and Derek is alone to enjoy Discovery Channel and his sandwich.

 

It becomes sort of a thing. Derek starts getting lucky in a lot of minor but noticeable ways in his daily life, and in return he makes an extra sandwich a few times a week. Most of the time the demon just takes them and leaves, usually with a quick and harried _thank you_ in his wake, but after a while he begins to hang out a little. Sometimes just standing in the kitchen and eating the sandwich, other times even following Derek to the couch for some brief TV time.

 

He seems fond of Mythbusters reruns. Do demons have TV?

 

Derek doesn't ask.

 

In any case, it's nice. The demon sometimes chatters on about what happens on the screen or some random world event on the news, but doesn't expect Derek to talk back, leaving him to just... savor the company.

 

He's gotten used to it enough that he's actually quite concerned when one day there's no blast of sulfur, and no demon appearing in his kitchen. He actually makes the second sandwich identical, in case he got the symbol wrong. And then he draws it on three different pieces of paper, before realizing his demon lunch buddy isn't coming. Refusing to believe the worst off the bat, he resolves to try again another time. But after two weeks and five different attempts he's forced to realize that his newfound friend won't be coming back. It makes him feel a shocking amount of sadness, and he spends several sleepless nights worrying that something awful happened to the demon.

 

Derek never even knew his name.

 

It's another dreary Monday, and Derek is getting ready for work when there's a knock on the door. He opens it with one arm into his jacket sleeve, but the jacket promptly slides off and falls to the floor when he realizes who it is.

 

The demon is in human form this time; pale and mole-speckled with brown eyes and and a distinct lack of horns and sulfur smoke, though there's still a lingering whiff of it around him.

 

“So. Funny story,” the demon says, his voice deep but perfectly human. “Turns out the big wigs don't look too kindly on doing favors for sandwiches. Apparently skipping the paperwork is grounds for banishment. Who knew?” He grins at Derek, but it's weak, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his ratty thrift-store fashion hoodie. “And. Well. I don't... really have anywhere else to go.”

 

Derek steps back silently, letting the demon inside.

 

* * *

 

Six months later:

 

“Derek!” Stiles calls as he flies in through the door, reeking of sulfur like he just popped in from somewhere. “Derek, you're not gonna believe this!”

 

“What?” Derek says, turning off the TV and putting down his sandwich. Stiles lands on the couch next to him in a flail of limbs, half-way in his lap, and Derek catches him reflexively.

 

“I just got a message from... let's just say an old friend. Anywho, remember how I told you my dad died? Well, this contact seems to think he didn't. They told me he was banished. Like me! Derek, do you know what this means?!”

 

Derek feels hope and excitement bubble in his chest, and he hugs Stiles closer. “Your dad could be _alive_. He could be in the human realm somewhere!”

 

“I might have family! Here!” Stiles hugs back with shaking arms, and kisses Derek's cheek and jaw and finally his mouth, pouring all his desperate hope into it, and Derek gives back with every fiber of his being. “Will you,” Stiles gasps when they finally part. “Will you help me find him?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Stiles beams at him, all boundless love and affection, free like he never was in his old life, and as much as Derek regrets all the things Stiles had to leave behind, he also can't help but feel blessed that he gets to have this. And all it took were a few sandwiches.

 

“You know, I don't think I ever really thanked you. For taking me in,” Stiles says, face going more serious. “I don't know how I would have figured out all this human stuff without you. And here you are, stepping up to help me track down long lost relatives.” He leans in to kiss Derek again, this time endlessly sweeter, and with undeniable emotion bleeding through. “You're an amazing human being, Derek Hale.”

 

“Werewolf, technically.”

 

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Stiles snorts, and Derek has to hug him close again, just because he's there, being sweet and warm and soft.

 

“I don't regret it for a minute.”

 

“Even though I always smell like farts?”

 

Derek shrugs. There's no denying that, really. “Eh. I got used to it. You don't care about my anal retentive sandwich habits. Or my excessive mustard consumption.”

 

“Mustard is amazing, though, fuck the haters,” Stiles says, and holds up his fist for a bump. Derek grants it with a laugh.

 

“Let's find your dad.”

 

End.

 


End file.
